


The Weight of Them

by BeefFilledShark



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, F/F, F/M, High Fantasy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ok technically not an actual campaign or one shot but the vibes are still there, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, THERE WILL BE RESOLUTION I PROMISE, Work In Progress, because they are idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23732368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeefFilledShark/pseuds/BeefFilledShark
Summary: There are many tall tales and myths that are told throughout Jantra. Stories of men and gods, demons and monsters, angels and heroes. Few have actually happened and even fewer are true. The legend of Turk and her party is one of these few. The storied warrior that saved countless lives live on in the fables told around campfires and in the spirit of Hearthmoor. But what actually happened to the famous barbarian all those years ago? What built, who built, this seemingly unreal figure in the very history of millions today? Join this old storyteller on this fine winter evening and learn just who she was and what happened to her.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. A Story To Tell

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place centuries before the current date in the dnd campaign I run for a number of my good friends. All events, locations, and people have canonically existed in the world. I want to thank those players for encouraging me to actually take the time to write this as it has been something I have wanted to do for some time. That being said, this is my first serious piece of writing in ages so on the off chance someone who is not from the game happens upon it, please absolutely tear it to shreds constructively. Thank you!

I always did love the feeling of a snowy Hearthmoor celebration. Granted the throng of children screaming below me was somewhat of a bother, I only had to endure it for a while. What the youngsters were yammering on about was beyond me, their shouts and cries blurring together, forming a viscous soup of bright sounds that eventually swirled down the drain as I began to shush them into a more accommodating state.

“Shhhh. Sh sh. Shhhhh…” I tried my best to dull the calamity of noise, lowering my voice as I gingerly eased myself down, the children following suit. My legs ached as I struggled to find my typical patch of soil I cleaned off in preparation.

With a few hushed voices and half-whispers throughout the young audience, it would be an understatement to say the volume of the square died down substantially. The only things to be heard were the idle conversations of lovers near the food vendors and the shouts of a gaggle of boys hanging off her statue, like sailors atop a crow’s nest, searching for land off the horizon.

“So, who here has ever heard of the name Turk?” I tried to keep my voice hushed, as though I were divulging a secret that was cautiously entrusted to me. A scattering of petite hands of all colors shot up throughout the crowd before a young human girl in the front row piped up, “Isn’t he the one who killed a bunch of stuff a long time ago?” Her tone mimicked mine and I could see the adults standing in the back cup their ears as they tried to listen in on our covert conference. The base of my neck began to prickle.

“You almost got it! She killed many evil creatures in her time… BIG scary monsters…” I shot my arms up underneath my cloak, emphasizing “big” as the snow slid off my sides. There were a few more children this year that jumped and I couldn’t help but smile. “Terrifying beasts, awful and hideous abominations, and horrid, horrid demons! But she didn’t only fight…”

I leaned in a bit closer as I continued “Did you know…” pausing in an almost teasing manner, “Turk saved the world? Twice! Everything you see right now, she protected it. You! Sitting right there, are here because she saved us all.” Some of the very young oohed in disbelief at this “astounding” claim while others, a bit older, shook their heads incredulously. It was a rather tame response compared to the intense clamoring to complete disinterest I’ve seen in years past.

I brushed a few gray hairs out of my face “I look old, don’t I?” A spattering of youthful laughter erupted with a generally positive consensus. “Exactly! I have friends who KNEW her! They’re not around anymore but they told me every single story they remembered about her.”

The laughter had died down as their eyes fixated on my hooded figure. They were at a low enough angle that they could see my features, I guessed. I shook the snow off my back as I brought up a hand to rest my face on, “it’s a shame I have no one to share those stories with…”

A young Tiefling boy shouted from the back, “you can share them with us!” There was a small cheer and another boy yelled in agreement “yeah!” I feigned a look of shock, straightening my back as much as I could manage.

“I can?”

“Yeah!” they shouted in unison.

“You’re sure you want to listen to an old woman ramble on about old things and old people?”

“Yeah!”

“You all promise you won’t get too scared?”

“Yeah!” though this response was met with slightly less enthusiasm from the crowd.

“This is your last chaaaance,” I tried to muster a singsongy tone but my voice wouldn’t permit me, “there are some reeeaaaally scary things in these stories and I want to make sure you all go to bed tonight.”

“Tell us!” was what the majority shouted with some slight variations from other kids. Etric– no a parent – was smiling behind the mass of youngsters, slowly bouncing a sleeping baby with quite the pointy ears. The needles on my neck began to heat up again as I ran my hands along it.

“Well then!” I clapped my hands together, “you’ve been warned…” The snowfall began to thin as the illustrious smell of some spiced meat sticks being grilled wafted over on a cloud of seasoned flavor. “It began on a night not so different from tonight’s, in a snow-laden tavern in a land far from here…”


	2. Rainfall

_Five. Six._

The deluge outside was deafening despite the din of the warm-lit tavern. It slammed against the tiled roof like thousands of urgent hands against a wooden door. She heard people say it brought them a sense of abatement or pleasure.

_Seven. Eight._

Whatever that meant. She couldn’t understand how people could feel that from such a racket. What an idea. Joy from such an innocuous source. Maybe-

_Nine. …_

to be just like normal folks.

“Here you are ma’am,” the portly, mustachioed man slid the nine silver pieces across the bar, dragging the half-elf back to the reality of the warm tavern din. The torchlight fell onto the murky silver ponds, their silent tide staring back at her as emptily as the coin purse hanging on her belt.

“This is half of what was posted. Where’s the rest?” She tried to keep her voice from entering that range of aggression and accusation, but she could never tell what was acceptable and what was offensive. Everyone had their own damn opinions and it was impossible to discern.

“Well…” the barkeep began to rub the bald spot of the back of his head as he searched for the right words in the dining hall behind her, “we don’t like to post jobs if the contractor hasn’t got the coin… but Miss Clement really needed those herbs for one of her potions. She’s hit a bit of a rough patch and I only wanted to help, ya know? It’s tough to turn an old lady away. Especially a strugglin’ one.”

Though the barkeep looked earnest and certainly honest, all that empathy couldn’t buy what she needed, “well, if she didn’t front the money, can’t you pay for now and then take what Miss Clement owes when she returns?”

The rain strengthened. Urgency turned to frustration as the pounding hands grew in number with the tavern rising to meet their strength.

“I wish I could help ma’am, but the owner would be pissed. He makes it a point to not mess with payments in contracts.” The base of her neck began to flare up, an uncomfortable warmth brought the prickling sensation she grew to dread.

She pulled the patchwork hood down further before grabbing the pile of silver and shoving it into her coin purse frustratedly. As she was in the process of doing so, the barkeep looked down the bar, still rubbing the back of his head before taking a deep breath, “listen lady. I know it isn’t much and I can tell you’re also in a tight spot. You can order whatever you want on the house as far as meals go for the night.”

Even she couldn’t tell what she mumbled under her breath, be it thanks or a curse. She turned to make her way out of the tavern and into the downpour as the barkeep shouted out in a whisper “and you can have first pick at jobs before we open tomorrow.”

She stopped at the doorframe, hand on the doorknob. She put the other over the purse on her belt, giving it a slight tug. Though it was still light, the muffled sound of metal clinking could be heard as she jostled it, much more reassuring than the past few days.

“Alright, what do you got,” she demanded, releasing the handle to the door and returning to the bar.

“Well, I noticed you always took the item orders but I’m ‘fraid we’re rather short on those,” he brought up some scrolls from underneath the bar, stained and splattered with all kinds of color and matter, “it’s almost like someone strolled into town and cleaned us out.” He gave a playful glance and a smirk while spreading out the papers on the worn wood of the bar. She returned nothing.

“As of tonight, we have a request to fend off a pack of direwolves from a rancher’s corral about an hour west of here for,” the prickling at the base of her neck began to radiate out, “eighty gold. A request for an escort of a caravan destined for Cheseli for,” the prickling morphed into a sweltering heat, “fifty gold. A job to guard a warehouse on a homestead to the northwest for-” and burned like white-hot iron.

“Listen,” she spoke with an intensity she scarcely resorted to, a lowered voice mixed with a deepness she brought up from within her chest, “I just need three more gold and I’ll be moving along, what are the item requests today.”

“Well we don’t exactly have any right now…” the man’s face strained a bit as he trailed off, the corners of his mouth stretching towards his neck in a subtle recoil, baring his teeth in an almost guilty manner.

The half-elf stood there, silent and unmoving. The pounding of hands seemed to grow louder than anything she’d ever heard, the force of each palm reverberated throughout her body, beating her from all sides and forcing her off balance. The roar of the tavern din only bolstered the hundreds of concentrated blows. She could even hear the screech of the torch flame just next to her, crackling and crunching like a forest engulfed in an inferno of preposterous size adding ever so slightly to each strike.

God the burning, the inferno was on her neck, spreading like acid all across her head and back, its stinging tendrils reaching and pulling itself further and further in search of more kindling. She tried to bring her hands up to snuff out the flames, but the hands restrained her own, pinning them against the bar she’d been supporting herself with. The blaze enveloped her shoulders and began to spread down her arms, igniting millions of tiny, fiery pins and needles through every square inch of her skin.

In the middle of this catastrophe, this site of utter carnage and chaos, a presence appeared. Something cool, something soothing put out a patch of the kindling on her right shoulder. Was that a new hand? Relief soon washed over the wildfire that had been spreading all over her body like a flood. The hands retreated from their assault upon her and relinquished control of her arms, going back to their quiet tapping upon the tiled roof. The tavern bedlam seemed to dim almost immediately and even the torch began to grow quiet.

Instinctively, she brought her sleeve up to her eyes to wipe something away. Were those tears? When did she start crying?

“Hey barkeep,” the voice behind her boomed strong and commanding, yet something soft was hidden within its vastness, “can we use one of the rooms downstairs? Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes but I can’t say.”

The barkeep’s face was hidden behind her hood. She didn’t look up but she heard the sound of something metal being placed on the bar that was quickly scooped up by the individual next to her. The soothing waterfall that put out the fire began to push her forward, away from the bar and towards a flight of stairs not too far away. She didn’t resist and simply obeyed, following quietly down the stairs and away from the rain and the rest of the tavern.

The resulting hallway was dimly lit, only a scattering of small torches hung from the worked stone walls, but it was enough to get a sense of her surroundings. Three doors were spaced equally on each side of the hallway. They passed the first pair before stopping at the second and turning to the right.

Out of her periphery, the half-elf saw what seemed like an ashen hand reach for the keyhole, almost as grey as the stone of the hallway itself. In its grip was the silver key that entered the lock. After a soft click, the door jolted and quietly swung open. As she stepped in, the voice, no longer booming, declared, “I’ll be right out here if you need anything. Take all the time you need,” before the door shut behind her.

The half-elf was alone again. Rather than a desert or forest, she found herself alone in an inn room. Dark, dusty wooden walls, a worked stone floor, like that of the hallway, and nearly no noise whatsoever. The muffled clamor of the tavern above barely made its way into this blissful island of solitude.

She made her way to the bed and sat down. Though a bit musty, it was a welcome change to her nightly routine. As she closed her eyes to gather her thoughts, she heard what sounded like a chair being pulled across the stone floor in front of her door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Like I said before, it's been a while since I've written so I'm also still trying to get used to chapter lengths and stuff. This is an awfully short update but hopefully the chapter's will get longer. Simply depends on how much sleep I get the night before I write. Please offer any critiques you have in the comments below! <3
> 
> -Kirbs


	3. Getting Down To Brass Tacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took a hot second to get out. (lies down on the floor and disintegrates)

The cold air entered her lungs as she took a deep breath. The bed was still warm from where she had been lying down for some time. It was difficult to leave its comfort despite the searing experience that roiled her evening no more than half an hour ago.

She pushed herself off the stuffy bed and to her feet, approaching the heavy door she had entered through. It was delightfully quiet down here. The tavern above was no more than an afterthought now, muffled by the layers of stone and wood in the floorboards above her head. Surprisingly decent for a shitty village inn.

The urge was still there as she placed her hand on the doorknob. To simply let go and lie back down on the bed. To close her eyes and fall into inky oblivion, never to wake up again. That would be fantastic, no more deadlines or bottom lines or even guidelines to follow just to make a couple of silver pieces. In fact, no need to stress out over silver or copper in the first place. What a world indeed…

The warm spot was probably gone already.

She pushed the door open slightly and peeked out down the hall. It was decently brighter than the dingy inn room she found herself in. The tavern din pierced through the air, much more audible now. But another noise caught her attention in this brief moment of reconnaissance. Humming?

Using her shoulder, she pushed the rest of the slab of wood out of her way, an endeavor that was regretfully a tad more difficult than she’d care to admit to anyone. By the time she finished her daunting trial, she was rewarded with the scraping of a wooden chair across the stone floor behind the now open door.

To say she was taken aback by the figure that emerged would have been an understatement; this individual towered over her, a statue carved out of ashen grey marble. Her features were distinct, sharp enough to cut the sculptor’s tools that whittled her to being, and looking to the sides of the figure at the rocky cliff face of her arms, she now understood why it seemed as though a Golem had unlocked the door earlier. The half-elf’s heart seemed to skip a beat. Probably out of shock or fear.

“Hey there!” despite the imposing, and sudden, appearance of the individual, her voice was more akin to the cool mountain stream that erodes the rockslide rather than the avalanche itself, “sorry for not introducing myself earlier. Thought you’d want some quiet.”

The half-elf stood in the doorframe, the silent mountain as the stream continued to flow. “The name’s Turk!” A smile crossed her face. Something was different about this one though, it seemed almost genuine as Turk reached her hand out in greeting.

The half-elf pulled her patchwork cloak in tighter across her body, it was still cold down here. “What’d you want?” much more accusatory again rather than inquisitive.  _ Shit. _

Turk brought her hand back to her side, “the barkeep didn’t look like he was doing too hot while you were talking to him. I wanted to make sure I still had someone to fill my tankard for the rest of the night,” Turk nudged the empty flagon next to the chair and chuckled harshly. “Thought you could use a break from the noise. Honestly.”

The half-elf internally shrugged. Seemed like a reasonable enough aim to talk to her. A drink in hand always was a prevalent motive for a lot of folks. “Well, thank you. Hope his cask is full for the rest of the night for you,” she turned towards the stairs and made her way across the cool stone floor.

“Hang on!” a rustling of leather armor approached her from behind as she continued walking, “this might seem a bit off, but there’s an open seat at my friends’ table if you’re interested...”

Almost as if on cue, the half-elf’s stomach began to moan and rumble like a decrepit house as she took her first step upon the stairs. Turk continued quickly, “Not that I’m asking you to come with me or anything, I completely get it if you have another place to be tonight or some other folks to see but I just thought it mi-“

“Sure,” the half-elf cut off the running river with a small, poorly made dike, but it worked. Turk was quiet for a moment before she exclaimed “A-Awesome! I’ll lead the way!” The bulky figure almost seemed to skip up the stairs ahead of her, the braided dreadlocks swinging behind her.

_ Just food and then leave. _ The half-elf repeated in her mind like a monk reading their mantra.

Cresting the stairs, she soon found herself in the thick of the tavern’s clamor once again. She couldn’t place whether it was quieter or the time spent in the room really had helped calm her down.

“Over here!” Turk’s voice rang out to her right towards the main tavern room. She could see her towering figure waving her hand in her direction.

The half-elf brushed past the bar, refusing to even muster a quick glance toward the barkeep’s way. Weaving through a few chairs and past tables, the half-elf reached the ashen statue. She smiled that odd genuine smile again as she looked down towards the cloaked half-elf and began to move to her side.

It was probably the most central table in the tavern, a large circle with four individuals seated opposite to her like a crescent moon. Turk started, “alright everyone get your introductions out of the way, we got a new friend with us tonight.”

The furthest to the left piped up, raising his gilded gauntlet to his chest in a seated salute of some kind. “Hello little one! My name is Etric Valonspike, if you have a mortal wound or a particularly nasty hangover, I’m your man!”

“He can be a bit much sometimes but he’s good company once you get used to him,” Turk whispered to the half-elf. She couldn’t help a slight chuckle escape her closed lips.

The human shouted, “I heard that asshole!”

“And what are you gonna do about it, you glorified tourniquet?” Turk shot back, holding a stern face before the two burst out in laughter with Etric struggling to keep the long lengths of auburn locks out of his face.

“If you two are done…” the voice came from the opposite end of the table, “the name’s not important, you can just call me Asul or Ace if you prefer.” The figure was hooded as well, but not for the same purpose as the half-elf. The elf’s features were clear and easily visible, sharp like Turk’s but more akin to a blade than the sculpture it forms. Her boots were on the table in front of her with a large tankard in hand, leaning deeply into her chair while she took a profoundly long swig. 

Once she had her lion’s share, Asul sighed in contentment before continuing, “I may not be much in a fight but if you need something you might not have on hand. I’ll probably be able to manage it somehow,” giving the half-elf a playful wink with her biting verdant eyes.

The figure beside Asul began next, “I’m Dimitri Telok, but most of these folks call me Beacon and by folks I just mean Etric. Don’t ask me why but I just go along with it.” Dimitri scratched at his messy shock of brown hair with a half-smile.

“Just a fellow with a longbow,” Turk pitched her voice slightly lower in a mocking approximation of Dimitri’s. her tone slightly lighter due to the tinge of glee. Etric seemed to get a kick out of that as he almost spilt his drink over his heavy armor while failing to keep that which was already in his mouth. 

Asul smiled while the poor archer suddenly appeared far more haggard than before, “it was ONE goddamn time! Fuck off and leave it alone for just a single night for the love of the gods.” This elicited a laugh out of the table save for the dark figure to Dimitri’s right. In fact this stormy cloud of a man had been quiet the entire length of the half-elf’s stay at this table.

She turned to the stormy figure, “and what’s your name?” before he even seemed to acknowledge the query, Etric cried out “Ah! So she can speak! I thought you’d brought us a little fox in a cloak Turk.” 

“Shut your mouth tourniquet,” Turk swatted at Etric’s head as she took the seat left of the half-elf, “that brooding piece of work is Tone. He doesn’t care to talk much but what he lacks in conversation he more than makes up for it with his axe.”

Tone didn’t move a muscle with his arms crossed and black hair obscuring the eyes of his exceedingly pale face. Unlike the rest of the members of the table, he had no empty or half-eaten plate before him. He simply sat there, an ominous storm on the horizon of an otherwise sunny day.

“I assume you’re already familiar with our… ever loving and caring friend Turk here,” Etric slapped Turk’s back with far more force than was necessary but she didn’t seem to even flinch, kicking out the chair before the half-elf and gesturing for her to take a seat.

“So, tell us! What is your story? Where do you hail from? Any skeletons in the closet we should know about?” Etric chuckled before recoiling in pain from Turk nailing him in his arm.

“How about just a name?” the sweet mountain stream’s words stung.

“I- I don’t really have a name” the half elf wanted to retract further into her cloak like a harried turtle.

Etric blinked blankly while both Turk and Asul held their breath instinctively. Dimitri choked on the piece of meat he had just taken a bite of while the thunderstorm sat unmoving in the distance.

“So…you never had one to begin with…” Turk spoke as though she were approaching an animal caught in a hunter’s trap, “or did you forget somehow?”

“Wasn’t ever important,” the half-elf tried to choose her words carefully. She didn’t want to lie but she also had no idea what to tell them. A nameless person. What the fuck was their reaction going to be to that anyways?

Etric bellowed, “well, we’ll need something to call you by.” This elicited a groan from Dimitri, “please don’t give her a fucking noun for a nickname. She deserves better than that.”

“Oh, come now Beacon! I know deeeeep down you like that name,” Etric’s boisterous laughter must be his most defining feature the half-elf thought.

“How about…” the gilded gauntlet stroked at the cleric’s stubble as his laughter died down into somber contemplation that looked quite misplaced on Etric. “Radiance!”

“Oh my gods.” Dimitri looked shellshocked, his voice wavering as he brought his head into his hands, “he actually doesn’t know any normal names. What the actual fuck am I doing next to you.” 

“There are plenty of people with that name! You simply aren’t cultured enough to appreciate it. Visit a monastery sometime and you’ll find plenty of brothers and sisters with that kind of name,” Etric responded exasperatedly.

“I don’t think a holy name is for me,” the half-elf managed to get out over Dimitri’s ramblings of killing a certain someone in their sleep like a deranged lunatic. Etric shrugged but seemed to respect the statement.

“How about May?” Asul had started a braid of her crimson hair mindlessly with her feet still up on the table, “short and sweet. No religious undertones I can think of”

The half-elf shook her head.  _ Too simple. _

“Serenity?” Etric questioned.

_ Too formal. _

“Kava?” Dimitri posited.

_ I’m not from Stol. _

“Sky?”

_ I’d rather fly through it. _

“Ruth?”

_ I’m not rugged enough. _

“Ferdeline?”

_ I don’t even know where that could be from. _

“Ardor?”

_ No _ .

“Lilliana?”

.

.

.

The half-elf looked to her left. It was Turk, staring into her tankard of now warm ale she must have left before she helped her. She hadn’t suggested anything yet. Could she tell?

“Lilliana…” it was sort of fun to say. Maybe a bit too long but that could be remedied with Lily. Those were pretty flowers after all. She could get used to that maybe.

“Yeah. That’s good.” The half-elf couldn’t help but return a smile when Turk looked up with that endearing expression on her face.

“Lilliana it is!” Etric bellowed, “may we call you Lily for short?”

“Yeah. I think so,” she looked down at her hands. She didn’t know what she was doing here. She should be getting ready for a contract tomorrow and yet here she was, dubbed Lilliana by a group of strangers she just met in a backwater tavern in the countryside. 

“Splendid! I’ll drink to that,” Etric brought his tankard up, finishing off what must have been at least half-empty before unleashing a deafening belch.

“You’re fucking putrid you know that, right?” Dimitri was not entertained while Turk chuckled and Asul braided. 

“Only for you my friend,” Etric struggled, still recovering from his explosive moment.

“In any case, we do have to ask, do you have any experience with weapons or the divine?”

The half-elf paused. What should she say?

“I know some spells. Nothing impressive.”

Turk raised her eyebrows in surprise, “that’s… actually excellent! We were wondering if you were interested in joining us for a little gold, Lily,” Turk brought up a map from beneath the table towards Etric’s side. She cleared off her empty plate and tankard, so the parchment was in the half-elf’s view. 

It was a hand-drawn map of the area. Not terribly detailed with small doodles of buildings with names of farms and ranches next to some, likely town names near the others. A large red x crossed out “Evans’ Ranch” in the top left corner of the map.

“We took a contract here a couple days ago to guard this farm and ranch. It’s nearing their harvesting day, but some workers have reported small humanoid tracks near the fields. The barkeep thinks it’s probably a small troop of goblins or some other critter.”

The half-elf pulled the map a bit closer to get a better view, “we probably won’t even end up fighting anything. A few hundred gold to stand around and look tough basically.” 

She could hear Turk continuing to explain but the half-elf was already fighting to stay afloat in her own mind. A few hundred gold. By the gods that could certainly help. She might even be able to afford a mule with that. Finally, wouldn’t have to carry everything on her own. Not to mention extra spending money on rations could make the day infinitely better if it were two and a half square meals a day.

“-few days travel from here but if we got started in the mor-“ 

“What’s the pay?”

“Uh- depending on how much trouble there may be, three hundred to four fifty.”

The half-elf’s stomach dropped. She struggled to even imagine that much coin sitting in front of her. Her hand drifted to her coin purse of nine silver.

“I’m in. If you’ll have me that is.”

Turk smiled as she had on the staircase. It was a charming toothy grin that exposed a small gap on her upper right jaw. But with how amiable she appeared; she didn’t seem to care.

“Welcome to the group little Lily!” Etric bellowed in laughter like a roaring pyre, “Barkeep! Another round for everyone.”

To the half-elf’s surprised the barkeep’s voice boomed right behind her, “Where you puttin’ all this stuff?”

Etric replied, “my friend, if I told you you’d have me thrown out into the rain.”

“Fair enough.”

The half-elf found a steaming plate being slid in front of her. Looked to be grilled mushrooms and some other vegetables.

She looked up to see the portly barkeep from earlier, smiling through his thick mustache.

“On the house dear.”

Lilliana took a bite. It was one of the most delicious things she’d ever tasted.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hello again! Sort of didn't have the brain power to write for Too Long because of my summer job but I was locked in a pressurized tube in the air for six hours with no wifi so i finally got this done. Please please please let me know anything I can work on i want to improve my craft and any recommendations or criticism will send me over the moon. Much love to y'all out there! <3
> 
> -Kirbs


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